Yesterday was much cooler – we had a great thunderstorm overnight – and I managed to finish the door on the west bedroom, my work only be interrupted several times to help big fat bumble bees out of the window.
A couple of days ago there were four or five fat, moribund bumble bees on the dining-room floor. With a cup and a piece of paper, I picked them up one by one and put them on the lavender bushes.
It’s been hot, so we keep the windows open; and the bumble bees feeding on the Virginia creeper and the plants outside often find their way in through the open windows, sometimes blown in on the welcome breeze. But there are no flowers inside – only the odd stray bit of creeper that has found its way through the gaps in the gable-end – and they struggle to find their way out. If we don’t help them, eventually they die of starvation; I am afraid I have had to dispose of a couple of corpses already this week.
I think perhaps we should call the West bedroom the “bumble bee room”; and the East one, of course, is the “bat room”, which might make it appeal to fans of a comic franchise as well as to those who like bats for being such cool animals.
